space between.
Staring at you through the glass
just one transparent piece of material between us.
I know I won’t look away if you don’t,
I won’t walk away if you won’t.
And so finally you crack a smile and slip the paper through the crack of the door;
Still too scared to face me.
I can never decide if that means I’ve won or If I’m still chasing this ghost,
our ghost.
They call her Nostalgia.
